


You’re Gonna Be The Death of Me (That’s How I Wanna Go)

by starrywrite



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Sickfic, and scott is such a dad, basically mitch is a whiny sick baby, we loves it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 19:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4449269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrywrite/pseuds/starrywrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about Mitch is, as lovely as he is, he becomes a little monster when he’s sick. He whines and moans until he’s out of breath, and even after that he still manages to whine and moan even more. Scott tries to be sympathetic, he really does. Being sick is awful and he knows that Mitch just wants to be taken care of, but after a few hours of that, he grows tired of being taken care of and he becomes rather difficult. He’ll refuse to do what Scott asks him to - Scott will ask him to get up and shower or offer him something to eat or suggest that he takes a nap, and Mitch will use every bit of strength he has to protest and do the exact opposite of what Scott wants him to do. </p>
<p>Scott loves Mitch more than anything but when he’s sick, Scott just wants to wring his little neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You’re Gonna Be The Death of Me (That’s How I Wanna Go)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bitchmitchie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchmitchie/gifts).



> it’s been a minute since i wrote scomiche, hope yall didnt miss me too much ;) (lol jk!!) enjoy everyone’s favorite fluffy cliche <3
> 
> a sick!fic for my sick baby <3 i hope this helped you feel better!

A loud, broken moan breaks the silence of the boys’ apartment, and Scott is awoken at six in the morning by the groan that follows that cuts through the thin walls separating his room and Mitch’s. He doesn’t hesitate to throw his covers back and get up to his feet to rush over to his room - the familiar feeling of panic settling in his stomach, although he’s certain that nothing _serious_ could be wrong with him, he just has to be sure. 

(And Alex groans “Shut up!” in reply to Mitch’s cries of distress, so if someone is going to check up on him, it has to be him.)

He taps his knuckles against Mitch’s doorframe before letting himself inside to see Mitch sprawled out diagonally across his bed, tangled in his blankets, legs draped over the edge and an utterly distressed look on his paler than usual face. Wyatt is lying between his legs but leaps to his feet to run over and greet Scott, rubbing himself against Scott’s legs. He bends down to pet his cat but he can’t take his eyes off of Mitch, and he frowns, “Is everything okay, Mitchy?” 

“I’m _dying_ ,” Mitch moans, rolling over onto his stomach and burying his face in his pillows and whining pitifully. 

Scott sighs a little, gently ushering Wyatt aside so he can walk over to Mitch, closing the gap between himself and Mitch’s bed, and he takes a seat next to his moaning friend, gently pushing him over so he’s lying on his back yet again and he places his hand on his forehead. “You feel warm, babe,” he says and it takes about five minutes of coercing to get him out of bed (“But it’s so _warm_ and it took me _hours_ to get comfortable, I’ll never be able to recreate this position, Scott!”) so Scott can drag him off to the bathroom to take his temperature, where he continues to whine the entire time. 

The thing about Mitch is, as lovely as he is, he becomes a little monster when he’s sick. He whines and moans until he’s out of breath, and even after that he still manages to whine and moan even more. Scott tries to be sympathetic, he really does. Being sick is awful and he knows that Mitch just wants to be taken care of, but after a few hours of that, he grows tired of being taken care of and he becomes rather difficult. He’ll refuse to do what Scott asks him to - Scott will ask him to get up and shower or offer him something to eat or suggest that he takes a nap, and Mitch will use every bit of strength he has to protest and do the exact opposite of what Scott wants him to do. 

Scott loves Mitch more than anything but when he’s sick, Scott just wants to wring his little neck. 

“Just - sit here!” Scott hoists Mitch up on the bathroom sink counter (one of the perks of Mitch being so much tinier than Scott is that Scott can literally just pick him up and move him wherever he wants) after he retrieves the thermometer from the medicine cabinet. “Open up.”

“No,” Mitch moans and Scott rolls his eyes. It’s already begun. “I don’t have a fever.”

“Well there’s only one way to find out,” Scott tells him and when Mitch opens his mouth to protest, Scott sticks the thermometer in his mouth. Mitch’s eyes get wide and he musters up something similar to a glare, and Scott can’t help but to grin because he just looks like a sad little puppy. He kisses his forehead, “Now keep your mouth shut for a minute, please.”

“Hmph!” Mitch pouts and crosses his arms across his chest, and Scott rummages through the medicine cabinet to see if they have anything for Mitch to take until the thermometer beeps. He takes the thermometer out of Mitch’s mouth and frowns.

“You’ve definitely got a fever,” he says and Mitch groans loud enough to drown out Scott saying, “Get your little butt back into bed, you aren’t going anywhere for the rest of the day.” Once again, Scott has to fight with Mitch to get him back into bed but when he finally manages to get him up to his feet and trudge back down the hall to his bedroom.

He flops down on top of his comforter, limbs sprawled out and face buried against his pillows. Scott sighs and grabs his little ankles, pulling him so he’s vertical and he tucks him in as best as he can. “I have some medicine for you,” he says and Mitch moans in response, causing Scott to roll his eyes again. “Sit up, I want you to take some medicine before you go back to sleep.”

Surprisingly, Mitch complies, but he grumbles, “M’not tired,” as he sits up and leans back against his headboard, pouting. 

“I think you are,” Scott replies, biting his lip to keep from smiling. Mitch can be so damn adorable sometimes. He hands him two pills and a glass of water and tells him, “Here, take two of these now, hopefully they’ll help you sleep some more.”

Mitch looks down at the pills and frowns. “Can I have coffee instead?” he asks, his voice small and his lip juts out in a pout akin to the way a child pouts when they want something. 

Scott sighs, feeling something akin to a parent who has to tell their cute child “no” for the first time. “The medicine is just supposed to help you sleep, Mitchy,” he says. “You’re gonna fall asleep before you even finish your first cup.”

“It’s not that strong,” Mitch replies with an eye roll. “And water is so boring; it doesn’t even taste like anything. Coffee is fun, coffee makes me happy.”

“You shouldn’t drink coffee when you’re sick,” Scott tries. “How about juice?”

“I don't want juice, I want _coffee_ ,” Mitch whines.

Scott sighs again, reaching for the class of water so Mitch doesn’t spill it. “I’ll make you tea instead,” he tells him. “It’s like coffee, and it’ll make you feel so much better. How does that sound?” He doesn’t stick around to wait and see what Mitch says; he simply leaves the room to make him a cup of tea. He returns to a grumpy and grumbling Mitch, but he mutters, “Thank you,” when Scott hands him his mug and rolls his eyes when Scott tells him to be careful because it’s hot. But regardless, he takes his medicine like a good boy and Scott gives him a kiss on the forehead. 

“Get some sleep,” he instructs him, pulling his blankets up when Mitch lies back down. “You need all the rest you can get.”

“Are you staying?” Mitch asks him, looking up with wide eyes and Scott can’t help but to bend down and kiss his forehead again.

“Of course I am,” he replies. “I’m not going anywhere.” And to prove his point, he sits down next to Mitch and gets under the covers with him as well. 

Mitch crawls over closer to him and rests his head on Scott’s thigh and whispers, “Thank you,” and closes his eyes. Scott pulls his blanket up to cover his shoulders and wraps an arm around him. “This is nice,” Mitch says, sighing happily. He pauses for a moment then adds, “But it sure would be better if I had some coffee.” 

“Shut up,” Scott laughs.

* * *

Scott ends up making a pot of coffee for Mitch anyway, and Mitch fall asleep before finishing his first cup. And Scott rolls his eyes, but he pours of remains of cold coffee down the drain and resumes his position on Mitch’s bed, sitting comfortably at his friend’s side. 

* * *

He doesn’t actually sleep, but Scott dozes off in intervals of several minutes while Mitch sleeps next to him, unable to properly sleep knowing that Mitch is sick and could wake up at any given moment, needing or wanting something. Call him crazy, but Scott doesn’t want to be asleep and not be there for Mitch knowing very well that his best friend would do the same for him. 

Mitch beings to stir a few hours later and he clings to Scott as he wakes up, all but climbing into his lap like a kitten. Scott can’t help but to smile a little. “Hey sleepy head,” he coos, brushing Mitch’s bangs out of his face, and he frowns. “You’re still pretty warm,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“Sick,” is all Mitch replies. He kicks his covers back and curls up to Scott’s side. “I’m hot, I want a milkshake.”

Scott chuckles softly, running his fingers through his hair. “You can’t have a milkshake, you’re sick. I’ll get you some juice, okay?”

Mitch makes a disgruntled noise and whines, “I want a milkshake!”

“How does orange juice sound?” Scott asks, ignoring him, and Mitch makes the same disgruntled noise again, causing Scott to sigh heavily. “Mitchy, you can’t have a milkshake,” he says, using his ‘stern parent’ voice that he rarely uses on Mitch - but whenever he does, it works. “I’ll get you one when you’re better.” Mitch huffs in annoyance, burying his face against Scott’s side, and Scott feels the slightest bit guilty, but that’s the price he’ll pay if it means Mitch will get better sooner than he would if Scott let him drink milkshakes and coffee all day.

“How about,” Scott tries. “I get you a big glass of juice - and you actually drink it- and we can cuddle and listen to Sophie’s entire discography together.”

Mitch huffs again, but he lifts his head up to look at Scott and he says, “Deal. But I don’t want orange juice.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “Of course you don’t, princess.”

* * *

“You haven’t eaten all day,” Scott speaks up after a few moments of silence. Mitch is laying with his head in Scott’s lap and the blond plays with his hair while he rests. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” Mitch says right away and Scott immediately knows that this isn’t going to be an easy conversation. 

“C’mon, let’s get you some lunch,” Scott says and Mitch moans, his body going rigid in an attempt to prevent Scott from moving him. “I can make you soup.”

“I want a calzone,” Mitch says.

“Soup and grilled cheese,” Scott says cheerfully. “Sounds perfect.”

“ _No_ ,” Mitch whines, rolling over onto his stomach, pressing his face against Scott’s thigh. 

“C’mon little one,” Scott gives his ass a light smack.

“I’ll bite your dick off,” Mitch threatens and Scott smirks.

“Save that sweet talk for Tinder,” he says, giving Mitch a gentle shove so he rolls over and in one swift motion, he swoops him up in his arms, holding him bridal style. 

“I’m not hungry,” Mitch insists, his words getting lost in a startled cry as Scott lifts him up and carries him towards the kitchen. 

“You been up since six and you haven’t had a single bite of food,” Scott tells him, carrying him into the kitchen and plopping him down atop of the kitchen counter. “So, soup and grilled cheese?”

“No,” Mitch says right away. “I want bed and sleep.”

“You _need_ to eat,” Scott insists and he, yet again, ignores Mitch’s griping and groaning in favor of doing what he has to in order to take care of him. It’s a thankless job but someone has to do it - not that he’s complaining, of course. “Tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich sounds like a great lunch, don’t you think?”

Mitch rolls his eyes. “Don’t patronize me.” 

“I’m not!” Scott laughs a little. “I’m just trying to make this a bit more enjoyable for you, I know you probably feel awful.”

“I do,” Mitch sniffles and he pouts pitifully. “I hate being sick.”

“I know you do,” Scott says, opening a can of soup, ignoring the way Mitch grimaces as he does so. “But you’ll be better in no time with me as your nurse.”

Mitch smirks a little. “Can we get you a cute little outfit?” he asks. 

“If you can find one that my fat ass can squeeze into, sure,” Scott laughs. 

“I’ll do a Google search when my headache goes away,” Mitch replies with a laugh. (Scott makes a mental note to get him some Advil when he’s finished preparing his lunch.) 

“You get a cute little outfit to wear; your tiny body would look amazing in one,” Scott tells him. 

“Yeah, daddy?” Mitch ask with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Scott chuckles. “You should dress up like a princess - you know, since you’re acting like one today.”

Mitch’s jaw drops and he smacks Scott’s shoulder. “Fuck you!” he exclaims and Scott laughs loudly. “You’re supposed to be nice to me, I’m sick!” 

“Excuse you, I’ve been nothing but nice to you all day,” Scott says, still laughing. He’s tempted to list every single nice thing he’s done for Mitch all day, including getting no sleep and choosing to stay home with him all day instead of going out or trying to get some work done, but he doesn’t. Because he doesn’t care about any of that - he doesn’t care that he essentially spent the entire day being Mitch’s nurse and maid while he’s sick. If the situation were reversed, Mitch would do the exact same thing for him. Even if he is being a bit of a brat today, Scott isn’t going to hold it against him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he mumbles and then he adds a soft, “Thank you.”

Scott smiles at him. “Don’t mention it.” When he’s finally finished setting up Mitch’s lunch, he brings a bowl of tomato soup and a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich over to the dining room table, and then all but drags Mitch over saying, “Lunch is served, princess.”

Mitch stares at the soup and grilled cheese and then glances back up at Scott. “Can we order calzones instead?”

* * *

Mitch eats most of his grilled cheese sandwich but he hardly touches his soup and, just like this morning’s coffee, it grows cold and Scott ends up pouring it down the drain. And despite his insistence on how he isn’t hungry, when Scott makes _himself_ a bowl of soup, Mitch helps him eat half of it.

* * *

The rest of the day goes by uneventfully; for once, Mitch doesn’t put up too much of a fight when Scott asks him to take some more medicine and after that, he falls asleep for about three more hours. In that time, Scott allows himself to rest for longer than twenty minutes and the two of them wake up together with Mitch pressed up against his side. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Scott says with a yawn. He presses his palm to Mitch’s forehead and asks, “How are you feeling?” Mitch grunts in response, clinging to Scott and pressing his face into his shoulder. “You still feel a little warm,” Scott muses with a frown. “But not as bad as this morning. I think you’re getting better.”

“All thanks to you,” Mitch murmurs, nuzzling Scott’s shoulder and sighing deeply. “M’sleepy.”

“I know you are, baby,” Scott gently pushes him up as he sits up. “How about I run you a bath, and then you can have a little dinner, and you can go back to bed, okay?” 

“’Kay,” Mitch mumbles sleepily, struggling to keep his eyes open and once again, Scott scoops him up in his arms and carries him off to the bathroom, where he runs him a bath, throws in a bath bomb, and leaves him to rest while Scott puts together something for dinner. He’s not the best cook by a longshot, but he makes Mitch some scrambled eggs and they’re ready for him as soon as his bath is done. 

He trudges out into the kitchen in his pajamas with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and he looks so little and sleepy, but warm and he smells like flowers, and Scott ushers him over the to the table so the two of them can eat dinner together. Mitch manages to eat more than he did for lunch, and Scott is happy his appetite seems to be coming back; it’s definitely a sign he’s getting better. 

After the two of them have finished eating, Scott guides Mitch back to his room, and Mitch flops down on his mattress in an instant. “Thanks for taking care of me today,” he mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut and he’s fast asleep before Scott can even say anything in response. 

* * *

At the end of the week, Scott awakes with a throbbing head and a throat that feels like it’s on fire, and he moans quietly to himself, rolling over to press his face into his pillows. “Damn it, Mitch,” he mumbles.

Speak of the devil, his bedroom door creaks open and a moment later he’s face to face with an overpriced t shirt, a hand holding a mug of tea and another holding a bottle of medicine. “A little birdy told me you were up all night coughing.”

“Did that bird happen to have gorgeous blond hair?” Scott asks, tiredly. 

“Maybe,” Mitch chuckles, putting the mug of tea down on his bedside dresser. “C’mon, sit up.” Scott groans as Mitch tugs on his shoulder and pulls him into a sitting position, and Mitch sits on the edge of Scott’s bed and grins at him, “It’s my turn to take care of you,”

**Author's Note:**

> this wasn't beta'd so any mistakes are my own! and it's been a while since i wrote any scomiche, so sorry if anything appeared to be OOC :)


End file.
